Descending to Madness
by knickerbockers
Summary: Draco Malfoy's life was fine and dandy until the press ruthlessly attacked his father. He goes to school wearing a bad reputation and carrying with him the threats of his mother's death. Will he survive the turmoil or will he just give up and descend to


Chapter One: Just the Beginning…

The final rays of the setting sun crept along the floors of a darkened room. The windows were barred, that no creature larger than a mouse could go in. The room starts to get chilly as the hands of the night clutched the world, and a young boy shivered against the cold.

That boy sat on his bed, gazing absent-mindedly on the dusty floor. He rubbed his palms against each other to keep them warm. Looking up, he saw a mirror on the wall opposite him. A boy with sleek, silver-blonde hair returned his gaze. He was wearing black robes, just like what he used to wear at home. But something is strange… something is different. The boy on the mirror seemed to look very tired, though he did nothing except sit on that bed for a whole day. His eyes are red and puffy, and his face looks somehow gaunt. He didn't look anymore like 16.

The neighing of horses and the sound of a stopping carriage woke the lad out of his reverie. With an abrupt action, he stood up and craned his neck to look at the bright moon just outside the window.

"Father."

With a swish of a cloak he was gone. He ran along the halls of the large manor quickly, but very quietly so that the portraits on the walls wouldn't stir out of their slumber. Upon arriving to his destination, he heard voices. The speakers seem to be arguing. He hid along a corner, and emptied his mind so he could hear clearly what the voices were saying.

"And do you have the authorization to know about my whereabouts?" said a man.

"Yes. I am the lady of this manor, I have got as much right as you do." Replied a woman.

"Oh no you haven't. You're just a mere bearer of the family name, but I am a true heir of the pure blood Malfoys."

Silence. Pure silence.

"You attended another gathering, didn't you?" the lady stammered.

"No."

"You did. I—I saw the mark."

The man's voice suddenly dropped. It was now a lethal whisper. The boy craned his neck to hear properly.

"When?"

"This morning. I was watching you from outside your door. The—the mark shone and you dashed out of your room, telling me that you need to go to the Ministry."

"And that's where I went."

Silence. Again.

Then suddenly, a roar and a pained scream of a lady.

Draco Malfoy darted as fast as he could back to his room.

"Have you had a nice summer, Draco?"

The Hogwarts Express sped along the country fields a week later. Draco Malfoy shared a compartment with Pansy Parkinson, and his two loyal cronies Crabbe and Goyle. He was looking out of the window, which was unusual because he did not find any beauty in nature whatsoever. Pansy tapped him on his shoulder lightly.

"Are you alright?" she asked. She always had this concern for Draco—in fact she almost liked him.

Draco nodded without looking at her. Pansy seemed unconvinced though, so Draco glanced at her and gave her a small smile, just to assure her that he's fine. Pansy grinned and launched into a mindless ranting about her adventures for the whole summer.

At least Crabbe and Goyle enjoyed her stories. Draco did not.

His mind is too occupied ever since he went home from Hogwarts the previous year. The news about Lucius Malfoy being a Death Eater spread throughout the wizarding world and the Malfoys were given a bad name. The Ministry of Magic fired Lucius because they said that they didn't want to have an enemy in their midst. The next few weeks after that _Daily Prophet_ reporters buzzed in and out of their manor, hoping to get an interview from anyone in the family. A news article (written by Rita Skeeter) about him popped out. 'Being a Son of a Death Eater, What's it Like?' was the title of the article—the content was still fresh on Draco's mind.

They almost lost half of the family treasure because Lucius paid the Ministry bags of Galleons every week just for the media to stop sticking their noses into his home. But it never worked. The Ministry abused Lucius; they got the gold and _Daily Prophet_ won more customers. People wanted to see a person of high-standards thrashed against the walls of poverty and bad reputation. For weeks, Lucius' flushed face made the front page of every newspaper, and the editorial cartoons never failed to draw him either hand in hand with a wizard in a black robe (assuming that he looks somewhat like Voldemort) or enjoying a party with Rookwood, Montague and the other Death Eaters.

He was sent to countless trials over the vacation, and he again paid the Ministry in order to crawl his way out of the mess. Just for publicity, Cornelius Fudge decided that he was guilty, and he was imprisoned in Azakaban unless he pays two thousand Galleons. Fudge also told the reporters that he was never friends with Lucius. He even mentioned that the first time they ever met was in the court trial.

And the worst part is, Lucius arrives home in a bad temper. He always argues with Narcissa and beats her up almost every night. Even Draco was punished for sins that he hasn't anything to do with. Lucius learned the art of drinking and he did that all the time. A drunk Lucius meant an uncontrollable Lucius and he did things that are irritating, sometimes crazy. He even engaged Draco and Pansy, telling his son that he must marry a pure blood. An irate Draco spat out that he doesn't love Pansy, and for that he got three nights locked up in his room with nothing to do and nothing to eat.

These thoughts swirled round and round Draco's head until the Sorting Ceremony was over. His Slytherin friends greeted him and he just offered them a weak smile. He kept his head down during the feast and didn't criticize Dumbledore for his welcoming speech. He ate in peace. He didn't make any faces to the new first years. He just kept quiet. People all over the Slytherin table looked at Pansy, asking her what's the matter with him. Pansy gave them a shrug. She was just as clueless as any of them. But it wasn't just the Slytherins who were looking at Draco. Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, the teachers, the ghosts, the portraits on the walls—as a matter of fact, the whole school was gawking and pointing at his direction. They obviously read the _Daily Prophet_ during the summer. But Draco didn't blush, he didn't even feel embarrassed. _He just kept quiet_.

This silence marathon was tested when Dumbledore left them his last words for the evening: "Good night."

The prefects were ordered to direct the students into their respective Houses and Draco knew had responsibility to do. Marching in front of the Slytherin first years, he led the way to the dungeons but even before he exited through the Great Hall, three too-familiar faces caught his eye.

"Aah, the world-famous trio. Potty, Weasel and the Mudblood." Pansy teased.

The Slytherins gave a hearty guffaw. Crabbe and Goyle positioned behind Malfoy, so that they could hear anything that he would say.

Hermione, on the opposing side, made the first speech.

"Came to ruin our lives again, Malfoy?"

Draco just stared.

"How's your summer?" Ron asked. "I've read a _Quibbler_ article comparing you and Harry. The title says, 'The Boy Who Lived and The Boy Who Lives with a Death Eater'."

The Gryffindors laughed. The Slytherins just stood there, waiting for Draco to retort.

He stepped forward. The Slytherins waited with bated breath until—

"My summer's fine, Weasley, if that's what you want to know."

It wasn't just Ron who stood flabbergasted, all the Gryffindors and Slytherins also dropped their jaws. With a nod and a quick smile, he moved past the trio, out of the Great Hall and into the dungeons. His companions followed, leaving a group of staring Gryffindors at the hall.

Hermione read _Understanding Arithmancy _in the Gryffindor common room, while all the other people celebrated a House party. Ron was licking the mouth of his butterbeer bottle, and Harry arranged the wizard chess set for them to play on. Hermione's brows furrowed, she dropped her book and opened her mouth to speak but after a while of thinking she closed them again. She did this routine for five times until Harry finally got fed up and spat out, "I know you're going to tell us something, Hermione. So fire away."

Hermione chose her words very carefully. "Is it just me… or has Malfoy changed? For the better?"

Ron snorted. "Get a bed rest, Hermione, you're sick."

"I don't need your brilliant prescriptions, Ron." Hermione said sarcastically. "I mean it, Malfoy has changed. You've seen him."

"Yes, we have, and his face isn't something that you would want to see on your first night at Hogwarts. It'll give you the creeps." Ron said. Harry laughed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm serious! You heard what he said earlier at the Great Hall."

"Are you still thinking about that? Oy! Stop that!" Ron added as one of the third years put a charm on the bulletin board so now it spells out rude words.

"Come to think of it, that is strange." Harry said, rubbing his chin. "He didn't talk much."

"Maybe he's got an upset stomach or something. And come on, he called us 'Potty, Weasel and Mudblood'." Said Ron.

"That wasn't him, that was Pansy Parkinson." Hermione said. "He didn't even retort when you told him about the article that you've read. And here's more, he didn't visit us in our compartment at the train."

"Now you're craving for his annual train-visits?" Ron said exasperatedly.

Harry interrupted. "No, I think Hermione's got a point, Ron. Did you see him nod at us? And the smile? He barely smiles at us. For five years all I got was the smirk."

"That wasn't a smirk, Harry, that's a grimace."

"No, I can bet five Galleons that it's a smile." Hermione said.

Betting was clearly the very last thing Hermione would do. Ron fell silent and said, "We'll see."


End file.
